My Boss Knows I'm A Slút (3)
“Yes, I would like to fúck your slútty cúnt, so you can know who the real boss is. Now stroke my díck,” he hissed.
I grinned slowly, dragging out the moment. “Well, not yet,” I teased, my tone dripping with mischief.
He bucked his hips up toward me, desperate, aching for more, but I held him in place with a firm grip.
I leaned closer, letting my breath fan over his skin.
“Did you picture it earlier?” I whispered in a low and sultry voice. “Me touching myself? My legs spread wide open for no one but you. My fingers sliding in and out of my dripping pússy, soaking wet while I moaned your name in my office?”
“Yes,” he said. His voice was hoarse and strained, as he watched me with eyes so dark they looked black. “Over and over.”
I started stroking him. My ha
